


Just... Rey

by ABeautifulBreakdown



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse of Power, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben hates his job, Closer AU, F/M, If you haven't seen it you should, Light daddy kink, Mind Games, Modern AU, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Unhappy Ben, Who is Kira Blackwell?, emotionally stunted, it's only mentioned twice, lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, stripper rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24782347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABeautifulBreakdown/pseuds/ABeautifulBreakdown
Summary: When an emotional and lost Ben Solo wanders into a strip club in the middle of nowhere the last person he expected to see was her...
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Kylo Solo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61
Collections: Reylo Jukebox Exchange





	Just... Rey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Love_andbalance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_andbalance/gifts).



> My Prompt for the #reylojukeboxexchange Was Lana Del Rey - You Can Be the Boss. Made by the lovely [@Love_andbalance](https://twitter.com/Love_andbalance)
> 
> It gave me serious Closer strip club scene vibes so I went with it. If you haven't seen the movie then I HIGHLY recommend it.  
> A huge thanks to [@KirkwallCalling](https://twitter.com/KirkwallCalling) for beta'ing this for me with her wonderful notes and cheerleading.

The air is stale and the floor sticky beneath Ben’s feet when he steps into the club out of the rain. Because of course, it’s raining, why wouldn’t it be? Just another cheery to a perfectly fine shit sundae. He hadn’t meant to come here, which in retrospect was sort of a funny way to look at it because who accidentally finds themselves at a strip club? 

Still, when he’d gotten into his car that afternoon desperate to get away from his job, his coworkers, his boss, his _life,_ his only intention had been to drive. So he did. He put as much space as he could between him and the hellhole that had consumed his life for the last seven years. 

Seven years, _seven_ fucking years and what did he have to show for it? His relationship with his parents had been destroyed because he was too arrogant to listen to them about what kind of monster he was working for. Every girlfriend or potentially romantic relationship he’d ever had was swallowed up and snuffed out by the demanding hours and his inability to put work down. Snoke controlled every aspect of his life. He _allowed_ Snoke to control every aspect of his life. His friends barely knew what he looked like anymore, a great many of them even going so far as to tell him he’d changed. 

Wasn’t that what people did though? Grow up? Evolve?  
Could he really say that this process had been a positive one for him though? When he looked in the mirror did he recognize who was looking back at him anymore?

Even Kylo wasn’t talking to him currently but that might have more to do with the fact that he’d caught Ben kissing his girlfriend than the work thing. And that right there was just another example of how Ben had changed. He and Kylo had been so close all their lives, they had shared everything. Sometimes, yes even girls. That had been the nail in the tire though. Kylo wasn’t mad that Ben had kissed Kira just that Ben hadn’t talked to him about his attraction to her in the first place. He’d done that, drove that wedge between them and like everything else in Ben’s life he was too scared to face it.

So, he ran. He ran from his friends, his family, and now even the job that has defined him for the last seven fucking years. He ran and now he was here standing in this strange little club in the middle of nowhere on a Thursday afternoon. 

It was like entering into another world. The lights dimmed and glowing red like walking into a darkroom. Like the ones Kylo used to develop his film when he was younger. He probably still used them but Ben wouldn’t know. It’s been ages since he helped Kylo with one of his projects. Not since before Kira. 

The room itself is a large hall lined with benches and chairs done in what looks like red crushed velvet. Running along the centre is a raised platform lined with red lights, two poles at either end. The lights overhead are the only ones not glowing red in the whole room. It's harsh  but it doesn’t take long before Ben’s eyes adjust and he's making his way to the bar. 

There are women everywhere as one would expect. Walking around in their _uniforms_. Well, matching bra and panty sets that glitter and shift in the light. Their hair and make up done, their feet clad in platformed high heels that look like they’re a pain to walk in. 

_Beauty is pain_. She’d told him that once wearing heels like these women while Kylo photographed her legs. Just her legs. They were nice legs Ben had to admit. Long and shapely, toned from running. She loved to run, lived for it, always joked she was so good at it because she was always running away from something. It’s only now Ben understands how profoundly lonely she must have been even with Kylo. 

Kylo had a tendency to see without really seeing things. Blinded by his passion, his art. It made him a brilliant photographer, that eye for a shot and an even better artist once he spread out into more abstract mediums. But he was a shit lover for it. He could never see how he was crushing her spirit because he was, Ben had watched it happen. 

Fuck that, fuck Kylo, fuck Kira, fuck it _all._

Shaking his hair out before running his fingers through it a few times, eyes scanning the room. There are a few men sitting on one of the plush red benches watching a woman on stage. A few smaller groups sitting huddled around various tables enjoying what looks to be rather fine looking meals while the girls saunter about. A hand on a shoulder and one is pulled into the lap of a gentleman eating a steak. He offers her a bite while she giggles and his friends all cheer offering her pieces of whatever they have left on their plate. They feed her like she’s a child, stroking her cheek as she bats her lashes and smiles. She plays her part well. 

Food would be smart but Ben isn’t entirely sure his body could handle anything solid right now, alcohol would have to do. Easier to drown your sorrows on an empty stomach. 

Slapping a few small bills down on the counter Ben catches the sign, “ _Steak, salad and a pint $20_ ” not a bad deal really making him wonder how wilted the lettuce and thin the steak might be. Still, food for thought as it were, “Whiskey neat,” he calls to the bartender holding three fingers up as the man turns away busying himself with the bottles of liquor and glasses. He’s reaching for the top shelf Ben notices with some amusement making him wonder bleakly what sort of swill might pass for top-shelf in a strip club that’s done up like a vampires lair. 

Leaning against the bar Ben takes another casual look around. The bartender is the only thing that looks out of place here. A lump of a man that looks like he suffers from some sort of condition that results in severe edema. Like his body is just a meat suit zipped around a water bed trying to pass as a human being. 

It’s then that he sees her, no not _her_ , not really because it can’t be her, life wouldn’t be that cruel, would it? 

It looks an awful lot like her though, long tanned legs and a wonderfully rounded arse. The kind he longed the sink his teeth into. A trim tummy, and breasts that by most standards might be considered too small but Ben has always found deliciously tempting. The perfect size pushed up just a little to make them look more appetizing but watching he thinks he’d rather them without the get-up. She’s moving her hips, her back pressed against the metal pole closer to his end of the stage. Her uniform as it were, a brilliant pink lined with silver that glitters beneath the harsh stage lighting.

She’s putting on a show for a group of men who barely look like they deserve the title. No more than little boys playing dress-up in daddies suits. Lawyers Ben guesses by the level of sheer arrogance and bravado that seems to permeate the air around them. They call out things like, “ _take it off_ ” with a laugh throwing bills onto the stage as she puts on a show. “ _Spread those pretty thighs_ ” he hears from another call, his voice carrying louder than the rest. More aggressive than his friends, leering dangerously at her as she bends to take the bill he’s taunting her with. It makes Ben want to smash his teeth in but no…

With his whiskey in hand Ben watches for a beat, the warm liquor smooth and surprisingly pleasant on his tongue. Not bad, sweet salted caramel with earthy hints of apple and something a little darker. It swims in his mouth coating his palate before warming his belly and calming his frantically beating heart.

When did that start?

He’d just wanted something mindless, someplace to drown in his own self-pity where no one would think to look for him after… well after everything that happened. Instead, here he is, watching her again. Kira. Because it _is_ Kira and not some tarty doppelganger like he’d originally wanted to believe. The fluorescent lighting of the stage washes her out but he can still make out the smattering of freckles that dance across her cheeks and down along her shoulders. Freckles he’s secretly mapped time and time again like some lovesick child chasing after a dream. Her dark eyes are lined in heavily with eyeliner that makes her look far older than he knows her to be. A little girl playing a part, though she was always good at games. 

Legs spread, back arched, her hand at the nape of her neck she looks away from the boys with a coy smile playing at her lips. Her hair, obviously a wig, is bright bubblegum pink and cropped short in a bob that hangs around her jaw. What he wouldn’t give to rip that ridiculous thing off her head and run his hands through the dark locks he knows are hidden beneath. To run his tongue along her throat as she arched like that for him. 

Without realizing what he's doing Ben turns to the bartender, “Her,” he says, his voice gravelly but firm, trying to sound as authoritative as possible, “How do I get her?” Like he can order her off the menu he points to the woman on stage with her pink hair and her full mouth now bending over with a wiggle of her hips. Those fucking sinful hips and that ass that she had forever taunted him with

Did Kylo know she was here? The last time Ben had seen either of them was on Kylo’s deck months ago. He’d decided to throw one of his pretentious house parties in the name of Christmas or some other foolishness and Ben had gone because it was Kylo but mostly because he knew Rey would be there. By this point, his infatuation with his brother's girlfriend was verging on the ludicrous and he hadn’t been able to find it in him to care. Instead, he played her games, the flirtation, the innuendo, the way she would trip him up or corner him like she knew exactly what it was he was thinking. 

Kira liked playing with fire. 

She’d cornered him when he had gone out for a smoke, a bad habit he was trying desperately to drop. She’d teased him for showing up to an artists lair wearing a bespoke suit. Kylo never cared so he wasn’t sure why Kira did either but it was all part of her game. The shy smile, the long lashes that she hid behind as she walked closer. She always said even without Kylo’s facial hair she could tell them apart. Not many could boast such a thing but if anyone could do it, it would be her. She always paid such close attention to detail, stood closer than necessary, made herself known with soft lingering touches that Ben always knew did not belong to him. 

So, when Poe found them kissing, laughing because it was obviously a mistake. Thinking Kira had clearly fucked up cornered the wrong brother Kylo knew just as well as Ben did there was no mistake to be had. 

They fought in private, hushed curses and low toned accusations. Ben had told Kylo to keep Kira out of it all, it was his fault. But Kylo knew because he knew her, his little muse with her seemingly harmless flirtations and devilish smiles. He knew and he didn’t even really care about that. He was just pissed off that they hadn’t talked to him sooner. His pride was injured and nothing stung worse than that. 

Merry Fucking Christmas. 

Still, even now after everything the draw to her is visceral. Like being pulled into another one of her games only thing time he’s making the rules.

Manipulation, like masturbation, is often much more fun when other people play too and Kira loves games. 

“She just started,” but that doesn’t matter, he needs her now, alone in a room where he can be the one to taunt and to tease. He needs this, this mockery of power even if it’s bought.

“I’ll give you five hundred,” Pulling out his wallet slams a series of bills down on the counter, “If I can have her right now,” the bottom one sticks to the surface making Ben turn his nose up. He washes down his demand with the rest of the whiskey placing the glass down with a loud and solid clink, “Now.” He emphasizes with a quirk of his brow, deciding quickly, “and the rest of that bottle.” 

“The rest—“

“That's that I said. The girl and the whiskey.”

The bartender takes a moment to consider before countering, “Seven,” the dirty fucker. This sausage fingered asshole thinking he’s being smart, “She’s one of my best earners,” Like he’s doing Ben a favour. 

Jokes on him though, Ben would have put a thousand down in a heartbeat to get her alone. The fool wanted seven? “Fine,” another two bills down and he’s sliding his wallet back into his pocket watching as the gelatinous man makes his way out from behind the bar. He grabs another girl as he moves, one dressed in greens and golds pointing towards the stage. Ben can see her make a face as she seems to argue about the request when the man’s hold on her arm tightens and she relents. If Ben was a better man he might speak up about the mistreatment but his focus right now is singular. All that matters is the pretty girl in the pink wig. 

Kira looks confused when the bartender, her boss he’s coming to realize hollers to her over the music gesturing to her to get off the stage. The boys she’s been entertaining groan in frustration making their displeasure known as she hops down landing gracefully on platformed heels. _Beauty is pain_. Her voice coils through his brain as he watches her argue. She doesn’t see him at first, focused solely upon her beast of a boss as the girl in green takes the stage and the children stop their whining. “I was in the middle—“ she hollers over the music, gesticulating with her arms when she finally catches sight of him. Her heels clacking loudly against the floor as she moves pulling his attention back to her legs. 

Legs she would drape over him lazily while watching a movie, her head in Kylo’s lap. Legs he would chase when they’d go out for runs, because Kylo hated cardio and Kira lived for it. 

“Gentleman wants a private,” Ben hears the blob man say, his voice sickly sweet and laced with a warning. _Be good, be grateful, do your fucking job_. Threats lying beneath the surface as his meaty hand lingers along the delicate curve of her jaw. A show of power, he can touch her because he owns her. 

Ben can feel the thin ice he’s been carefully treading on start to crack. Grinding his teeth as he keeps his eyes focused on her and not her asshole boss. It takes every ounce of willpower not to punch this man in his flat grotesque face. It’s not worth it.

There’s a flash of something across her face that’s gone before he can catch it. Something dark that's replaced with a coquettish smile and the soft fluttering of lashes, “What’s your name stranger?”

She’s licking her lips as she tucks her chin in just so. As though just the thought of his name makes her mouth water. It’s started already, this game they’re to play and they aren’t even alone yet. She’s taken control as Kira often does, leading him into something that he only thinks he's ready for and suddenly Ben realizes this isn’t going to go the way he’s expecting it to, 

“Kylo,” he offers with a smile and if she’s shocked by the use of his brother's name she doesn’t show it. She merely grins, not a true grin because he knows what those look like. The ones that take up her whole face, all teeth and cheeks and eyes that twinkle. This is something altogether different. It’s dark and a little dangerous and it makes Ben want to play. 

She accepts the liquor bottle when her boss hands it to her, holding the neck with a delicately looped finger, “Well Kylo,” the K is harsh as her eyes drink him in. Acting the predator lurking in the night as she turns to lead him away. Her hips sway, the line of her thong disappearing between round tanned cheeks. That fucking ass of hers.

Is he allowed to touch he wonders? Probably not, but would she stop him if he tried?

The room is larger then he expects, one of the spaces used to occupy parties of men no doubt. At the centre is a large circular table with a pole in the middle where Kira places the bottle of whiskey and Ben’s tumbler. Around the table is a circular bench built into the wall, the cushions are done in crushed velvet again but blue this time. It’s a nice change from the glaring red, the walls chrome and lit with a backlight that shifts in color making it look like water reflected on glass. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t already drunk on the sight of her, slowly walking around the table, her breasts bouncing as she moves. 

With casual grace she takes a seat on the bench, draping her arms over the back cushions like a King on a throne, “So… what do you do… Kylo?” There’s that K again. The way her lips wrap around the name is nothing short of lewd. 

For a second he wants to say that he's an artist, to pretend he’s his brother, pretend that maybe she might love him, instead…“I manage other people's money,” he says stiffly, “But I think you already knew that.”

“Mmmmmmaybe I did,” she toys. It sounds like a moan as she spreads her legs just a little, “Maybe I didn’t.” He can see nearly all of her like this, just shy of not being enough. Crumbs thrown at him to keep him happy, keep him wanting because oh how he wants. He wants more than anything to see what's hidden beneath those pretty pink panties. To finally know what that cunt tastes like how it feels when she cums for his mouth. Would it be with a whimper or a moan? Would she gush for him?

“Why are you here?” He hears himself ask the question as he pours himself a drink. It’s more than three fingers but fuck it, he bought the bottle. 

Her response slithers down his spine like honey, “Playing of course,” she’s walking along the cushioned seats, her arms spread wide like a child on a balance beam.

“Does he know you’re here?”

“Who’s he?” And then she's behind him, her breath on his neck warm and sweet like candy on a string. 

“Ah, so this is the game we’re playing is it?” 

“Do you like games… Kylo?” Not usually no but this one… this one right here has him intrigued. 

“Sure,” he offers after a mouth full of whiskey, “Do they turn you on?”

There’s a soft laugh he nearly misses as she rounds the bench and sits across from him perched on the back of the bench cushions, “Sometimes,” lies, “It depends on the players.” Kira keeps her sentences short, careful, easily controlled like she’s jerking him along by a leash and Ben like an idiot is allowing it. 

He wants to believe it, that all this is making her wet. But he knows, “Bullshit,” because this person she is right now, the one with the demure smile and the heavily lined make up isn’t real. It’s an illusion she’s weaving, “You’re just telling me it turns you on because you think that’s what I want to hear. That it turns me on to think that it turns you on.” And maybe it does but it also makes him unreasonably upset to think she might enjoy this with anyone else. 

Digging into his jacket pocket he pulls out a crumpled cigarette pack. His fingers work quickly placing a thin stick between his lips as he exchanges the box for a lighter. It’s easy and smooth. A practiced action because he hasn’t quite yet. He wants to, knows he should but… well, honestly he just hasn’t. 

She’s always hated when he smoked, _“Kylo doesn’t,”_ she would say while trying to snatch away his cigarettes playfully. Kira is the only person in the world he would ever allow such liberties. 

_"It may have escaped your attention but Kylo and I, despite popular belief are two very different people."_

_"Oh… I know.”_ and she left him with that little piece to deconstruct obsessively for weeks. 

A soft pout lines her lips, fake, like everything else but so desperately adorable that Ben doesn’t find he minds so much, “It wouldn’t turn you on to know how wet I am right now?”

Fuck, she knows what she’s doing to him and he knows he should care, but the thought of her sweet cunt getting wet just for him is too much. 

An easy pull on his cigarette and he’s blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth, careful to direct it away from her. Her distaste is masked by a flirtatious smile, still not the real thing but something a little closer, “I never said that,” he tells her, taking a seat on the table instead.

Sitting across from her like this she looks so little perched on the back of the bench with her knees pressed together. Prim and proper like a lady. Another part of the act he’s sure but in for a penny, as they say, “Spread them,” He gestures towards her knee, the lit smoke posed between his finger. Grinning as she complies, “wider, come on sweetheart, wider.” 

Like a petulant child she lifts her legs with a huff, slamming her heels, those silver monstrosities onto the back of the bench, “Yes _Daddy_ ” she bites out knowing damn well what _that_ does to him. In this position, Ben can see that the front go her attire is done in sparkly pink sequins lined in dark fabric. He’d be lying is he said it didn’t turn him on just a little. This small grip of power, something he can take when she’s given him so very little. 

Another drag on his cigarette and her eyes are wide. He knows he shouldn't, it’s a horrible abuse of his power but this little game of strangers is starting to itch its way beneath his skin. “Show me,” he hates himself a little for it. The tone or maybe the blatant disregard for her as a person. Still, she’s a stripper, isn’t she? This is her job… to strip. 

For just a moment he doesn’t think she’ll do it. Her lips turned in a strange sort of grin. The kind he’s seen grace her lips when someone tells her something she doesn’t want to hear. Like when Kylo told her that she shouldn’t drink so much or that her hair looked better longer. It did or course, but honestly Ben would take her any way she was willing to give herself. Long hair, short hair, no hair at all. 

Kylo always told her to be polite even when she was pissed off, a lesson that seems to have stuck much to Ben’s displeasure. He always loved the fight in her, the way she challenged him, provoked him. The way she made him feel something. 

Small fingers curl around the gusset of her panties. There’s a gentle tug, her brows arcing, lips parted in a soft ‘o’. She’s fucking with him, even in this. This small scrap of something he’s desperately clinging to. Her chest heaves, her thighs twitch and then there she is. Everything is so pretty and pink and sinfully sweet accented by a silver ball that sits atop her clit, it’s mate poking through the hood just a little higher. She’s bare but for a small strip of hair just down the front. Nearly trimmed, not a hair out of place. Ben can’t help but lean forward because he’s seen pussies before but none quite like this. It’s a fucking work of art. “Show me.”

There’s a soft noise in her throat as Kira takes her free and spreads herself wider. It’s not necessary but he wants it and so takes his time in his lazy observation. 

Upon closer inspection, he can see how deliciously wet she is. Not a lie then he realizes with some satisfaction. Or maybe she’s being turned on by this forced display. Either way, it leaves Ben feeling quite smug. His head cocked to the side as he slowly drinks her in, offering only a nod when he’s done. 

He has to clench his fists at his sides as he watches her move. The desire to touch her is far too great and the stakes at this point far too high. She stands on the bench across from him, presenting him with a fine view of her backside. Then, she bends at the waist until she’s looking at him upside-down through her legs, “Are you flirting with me?” he teases. 

“Maybe.”

“Are you allowed to flirt with me?” A dark part of him wants the answer to be no but he’s not such a fool as to think that to be the case. Charm and flirtation are tricks of the trade. Make a customer think she desires them and that poor soul will be separated quickly from his money. 

It’s bitter, the farce, not the usual banter he’s come to love from her. The way she would push him, taunt him, make him think. Women don’t often make him think, they rarely make him feel these days and Kia, she figured out how to do both without so much as ever taking her clothes off. She used words and smiles to strip him down until she had him where she wanted him and now it’s his turn. Only it isn’t, not really. He was a fool to think this might go any differently. They were still playing her game and as usual Ben had no idea what the rules were. 

“Of course,” She croons, running her hands up her legs slowly as she stands. A soft shake of her hips and her arse jiggles before him. Fuck what he wouldn’t give to give it a nice firm tap.

With a groan Ben stands quickly, hovering as close as he dares, “Please don’t tell me he left you.”

The harsh look on her face tells him he may have gotten a little too close to the truth. Her lashes fluttering as she schools her expression, “No one left me,” But he did, his idiot brother let her go and for what? A stupid fucking kiss.?

Loosening his tie he tilts his head, another approach than “And what’s your name?” 

Sitting with a soft bounce Kira stretches out one long leg, her heel thudding against the table. The black garter at her thigh indicates her intent, she wants him to pay for it. 

He’s never been so grateful to have cash on hand in all his life. Hastily pulling out his wallet he grabs a twenty making a show of it before tucking it into the black lacy band, “Your name,” he demands. 

She pours off the seat like silk onto her knees crawling her way towards him. There’s the faintest hint of dark hair peeking out from her wig, a crack in her armour, “Thank you,” she purrs and he wants to tell her to get up off the floor. God knows how often they clean places like this. He’s sure if he took a black light to the room it would light up like a Jackson Pollock painting, “My name is Rey.” She says it so sweetly he nearly misses the punch line. Short but not quite it. A lie she tells with such charm he almost wants to believe it’s true. 

“Your real name,” Ben grumbles, watching as she bounces back onto her heels in a squat. Her palms climb his thighs, the heat of them radiating through the fine material of his dress slacks. Tom Ford, he thinks or maybe it’s Burberry he never knows but her hands press the soft material against his thighs and he’s suddenly grateful for whatever exorbitant price he paid for them. 

When she stands at full height with those wicked heels of hers her nose falls just shy of his jawline. Her lips so close he can almost taste them. Still wearing that ridiculous watermelon lip gloss he’d teased her about months ago, the scent lingering on his tongue. 

_“Children wear lipgloss like that, not grown women,”_ he’d laughed over a glass of scotch.

She’d been so indignant when she got up out of her seat, swaying between his legs he almost thought she might hit him, _“And yet grown men still love it,”_ she’d purred leaning in close to his ear to whisper the words, _“Right Daddy?”_ low enough that no one else could hear. 

It was then that Ben knew that he needed to have her one way or another. That he’d move heaven on earth for just one moment alone. Never did he think that moment would look anything like this.

Mere inches apart, so close that her knee bumps against his thigh as she places her heel on the table. The lace garter sitting crooked, the bill trapped at her thigh begging for another. _More,_ it tells him and so of course he complies, another twenty and his touch lingers on her leg causing her to look at him sharply. 

A challenge.

“Thank you,” she says softly, turning so that her back is pressed firmly against his hips. There’s no hiding what she’s doing to him and honestly Ben isn’t sure that he cares anymore. Shrugging out of his suit jacket he tosses it over the bench at his side carelessly, “My name is Rey,” she calls over her shoulder, her lips drawn in a smile that is anything but coy.

_ Fuck. _

He wants to grab her and scream but she seems in this for the long haul. Her arms artfully draw up, elbows bent like a doll, “Careful,” he growls getting lost on the scent of her like some love-struck idiot. Jasmine and rose with the faintest hint of something citrus. Sweet orange maybe or ylang-ylang. Words he only knows because she lectured him on it when he told her she smelled like a slower. He’d never cared about such things before but now, now it’s her. The scent of sweet flesh that sparkles in the dim light. A coating of fine powder littering her skin making her shine like a diamond. Even with the stench of stale alcohol and bodies, he can still smell her, intoxicating, infuriating and so so very sweet,

“You know me,” he warns.

“Do I?” flirtatious and sweet the words roll off her tongue.

His mind tumbles through the last year, all the ups and the downs. The first time he met her at that pretentious fucking art gala. The one that had her pictures featured in large black a white. Her eyes enchantingly hallow as she wept for the camera. She was a nobody then, just a girl Kylo had met though he would never say where. A girl who was able to pout prettily and cry on command. Ben had thought her vapid and full of shit then. 

How wrong he had been. 

Kira was the embodiment of wit and sass. Not just a pretty face but a head full of ideas. She was uneducated in the formal sense but her intelligence was a marvel. She was constantly reading and absorbing new information like she was afraid there was something out there she might miss. It was a constant bone of contention with Ben, the way Kylo never really seemed to grasp the gift he’d been granted in his girlfriend. 

“We met a year ago, I know you remember,” reaching out to touch her shoulder she whirls on him quickly, a finger drawn in the air. 

“No touching,” she says firmly, her delicious little digit pointing to the camera in the ceiling. 

Control. She’s fighting for it and she’s winning. He can ask her anything he wants and there's no way he can be sure any of her answers are the truth. It’s all rank speculation and trying to catch smoke. 

“Tell me your name.” Her smile is electric but still not the real thing. An act, a show, a persona put on to protect herself from all the assholes and perverts who walk through those doors. Is he no better than them? “I want the truth from you, the real truth.”

Stepping onto the bench she takes a seat, laying back against the cushions like a gift. Her knees crooked, her arms above her head like in one of Kylo’s photographs, Ben can see that she’s mocking him. Her hip turned in his direction so he tucks another bill into the garter. Rougher this time.

He needs a moment to compose himself, to avoid another incident brought on by his inability to keep a level head. One a day is enough thank you very much and Ben has had enough to last him a lifetime, “Thank you,” again, so polite, so proper, “My name,” she arches her back, the muscles of her stomach flexing, “Is Rey, Just Rey.” 

Something in him snaps, a noise erupting from his lungs that barely sounds human, “Don’t fuck with me,” he hollers but the girl doesn’t budge. She just blinks at him with large dark eyes, batting lashes as she strokes a single finger along her jaw. 

Ben wants to scream. He scrambles for his wallet pulling out a handful of bulls. Really he shouldn't be so callus with his funds he might not actually have a job tomorrow but what does it matter?

“Is this your game?” She sits up and he’s waving the money in her face, “You want more, I’ll give you more, just tell me your fucking,” it comes out harsh as he strokes beneath her chin with the bills before throwing them at her growling out the word, “name,” like a threat. 

The bills, packed in a group hit her against the chest as she smiles, “thank you,” and he could laugh at how sweet she is, licking her lips as she picks up the bills one by one slipping them into her garter, “Still Rey,” though the tone is something else, something harsher, something real.

He chases it, grabbing at the money but she turns away from him. Their shoulders bump and she grins, her eyes glancing towards the camera in warning. Her safety net should things get ugly and idly Ben wonders how often that’s happened to her.How many men have tried to put their greedy hands on her the way he’s so desperate to do.

“Alright then,” backing away he pours himself another glass of whiskey taking a drink before he hands it over to her. She takes it with ease swallowing down the contents like water. She’s good at this he realizes, far too good at this to be new.

Was she a dancer when Kylo met her? 

Her lips part to speak, “Don’t you dare say thank you,” he points in warning and she bites towards his finger playfully. A whisper _‘thank you,_ ’ hanging between them.

With a loud holler he whirls around worrying his hands down his face, “This is all a game to you isn’t it?”

“Life’s a game,” she quips lightly, “the trick is learning to play it better than the next person,” Ah, and there she is. That glimmer of something rough beneath the polished edges of this Rey persona. The cynic always ready to play devil's advocate even if she doesn’t believe in the position. 

He wants to ask her about Kylo, about the fight and everything that happened after Ben left that night. His brother never did well with injuries involving his pride. He was a mercurial man, something both he and Ben had in common really. Kylo never reached out to Ben afterwards, then again Kylo wasn't the one who needed to apologize. Why then hadn’t Ben done it?

“I may be rich but I’m not stupid,” he barks, closing the space between them in a matter of steps. She stands her ground staring him directly in the eyes. She’s there, right there, all rage and fury ready to snap. He watches her lip tremble as she leans in just a little. Lingering in the space between them. For a minute he thinks (hopes) she might kiss him. Put him out of his misery. He’s been dreaming of her mouth for months, that pink little tongue that tasted like fucking watermelon.

“What a shame Kylo,” still she uses his brother's name bitterly even though she knows, she _knows_ exactly who he is. She knows because she could never mistake them. Could tell them apart blindfolded, “I love em rich and stupid.”

Fuck this, fuck her, fuck all of it, “Don’t you fuck around with me.” he screams in her face.

There’s a moment of fear that is quickly swallowed up by some professional bullshit, “I apologize.” She offers, moving away from him to grab at her purse. 

“Accepted,” because what else can he say but she’s stuffing her money into the small bag, getting ready to leave. Panicked Ben grabs her by the wrist, her skin so soft and warm beneath his touch before dropping it quickly, “You’re no different then the rest of them are you? A bunch of dolls using stage names to con yourself into thinking your something else so that you don’t feel guilty when you show off your cunts and arseholes to complete fucking strangers.” 

There’s a pause and she’s headed towards the door.

“I’m trying to have a fucking conversation with you.” he bellows and her shoulders tense.

“Do you have more cash?”

“More cash,” he says softly, “more cash, more cash,” pulling bills from his wallet he throws them without pretence watching as they flutter to the floor like leaves, “Here’s your fucking cash, no tell me something real.” but he doesn’t let her, he barrels through like an idiot as she watches him blankly, “We met last year—“

“Wrong girl.”

“Talk to me!” he takes one step and then another and she’s there again softening his edges.

“I am,” she says delicately, her eyes lingering on his mouth.

There’s always been this pull to her, something he’s never been able to explain. He often wondered if Kylo felt it if that’s how his brother had managed to find her because honestly, Ben’s pretty sure he could be placed in a city square filled with people and he'd still manage to find his way back to her, “then tell me something real,” he begs, “I’ve thought about you constantly these past few months, I didn’t know you’d be here, I swear but I know who you are, I see you. I need you to know that I see you.” a breath, “I love you, I love everything about you that hurts,” He laughs at his own stupidity, the words falling from his mouth before he can stop them. 

Her pupils dilate, her breathing turning shallow and he’s backing away from her falling back on his ass against the table. Carelessly he grabs the bottle taking a drink straight from the source.

Kira laughs and looks at the floor “You don’t love me.” she says sadly, throwing her purse down on the bench again. A small concession gifted. 

“I’m not going to sit here and have you tell me how I feel.”

“You don’t know me, Ben!” And there it is, the game has been forfeit, she’s slipped and he has her. A bitter victory but it’s his. The hurt in her eyes makes him regret it immediately. He’s on his feet, his hands cupping her face as she stares up at him. No touching be damed they can haul him away. Kira backs up against the bench and then awkwardly climbs up backwards. Her heels hit the cushion but she’s standing over him now with his face held against her chest. 

The bra she’s wearing is surprisingly cold, littered with rhinestones and jewels, “I want to,” he tells her, “I could, I could love you. I want to love you. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, you just need. To tell me. Something. True.”

Leaning in her lips linger a hair above his, so close he can taste the mint and whiskey on her breath, “Lyings the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off,” she simpers, “It’s just more fun when she does.” Her eyes flicker from his to his lips and back as though she’s sure she’s won the game. Instead, he pushes forward, their mouths meet in a harsh clash of lips and teeth and he knows it's the worse idea he’s ever had. Waiting for security to barge through the door and kick him out but until then he’s going to take this. Her lips, soft and sweet and everything he remembers them to be. 

She slants her mouth against his and hums softly, the vibration something he feels down to his toes. With a hop, he has her in his arms, her knees holding her up against his hips as her arms wind around his neck. She whimpers his name against his mouth, his name, not Kylo’s and he loves her but he hates her all the same. Hates her for these stupid fucking games and the hell she’s put him through.

Laying her down against the bench he presses his weight on top of her and groans when she wiggles. The heat from between her legs is a throbbing reminder of his own deep desire for intimacy but this is far too public a place for that… isn’t it?

Her hands are everywhere, lost in his hair, pulling at the back of his shirt. She kisses him like he’s her last chance at life like he holds the key to her happiness on the back of his tongue. He’s honestly never been kissed like this before with such ardent surety that it makes his head spin. One of his hands cradles her head while the other spreads out against the soft cushion beneath them. 

He takes her home that night, back to his place where they fumble in the dark. She begs him to call her Rey and he does. Begs him to tell her he loves her over and over and he does. She’s sweet like summer wine and first kisses. Her body lights up when he touches her, trembling as he takes her, with a shudder and a gasp. She tastes sweet and tangy he discovers greedily, like too ripe pomegranate, bursting in his mouth. 

He tastes her until her legs shudder and she’s pulling on his hair, pushing herself against his face as he fucks her with his tongue. After he’s satisfied his curiosity he buries himself between her legs taking her fast because he knows he won't last. It’s hard and quick and she feels like a dream. Wet cunt dribbling on his sheets as he comes inside her, rocking through his orgasm until he’s weak and tired. They nap for a while before he wakes up with his cock in her mouth. Warm and wet she chokes him down before climbing on top of him. The stretch is warm and agonizingly slow, his whole world coming apart as he enters her. It’s slow this time, the kind of sex between two people who have known each other forever. The kind where it happens so organically there’s no need for theatrics. This time he lasts, switching positions as he gets her off, a finger on her clit, his lips on her neck. When he finally reaches his end they’re on their sides and he’s taking her slowly from behind. 

Like this, he can hold her, his hand on her belly as he whispers his secrets into her hair. She cries in her sleep which makes him only cling to her tighter, peppering kisses against her shoulder as she shakes. In the morning he’ll have to face reality. The job he hates, the boss he punched, the bridges he’s burned but for now he finds comfort in her.

In the morning she’s gone, the bed cold beside him as sunlight filters in through the open window. It's empty and wrong but there's not much else to do then get on with it. A shower, a clean suit and a cup of coffee before he goes. Simple things, a morning as unremarkable as any other, only it's not because he can still smell her.

So lost in his own blossoming self-pity Ben almost misses it. The small note stuck to his fridge with half-chewed gum he realizes. Because he has no magnets and she clearly hadn’t thought to just leave it on the counter. 

‘Sometimes the truth is far more simple and much more obvious then you might think. Call me when you’re ready to accept it.’ it says in messy curled writing with a number scrawled underneath. Her number he thinks tucking the note away for safekeeping. It’s cryptic meaning a barely-there thought as he braces himself for the day ahead.

He thinks about her often but can’t bring himself to dial her number. His life is a mess and she deserves so much more than that. Instead, he works on getting himself put back together. 

The first thing he does is quit his job, then call his mother. In another month he’s working for her non for profit and going home for Sunday dinners no questions asked. His father takes a little more convincing but Ben has time now, time to get things right because he’s not tied to his phone. He has a chance to be a person again. 

He doesn’t go back to the club, he wants to but can’t bring himself to do it. The idea of seeing her again is too much and still, her note sits in his bedside table, her phone number taunting and tempting.

Eventually Ben reaches out to Kylo too. An apology, a promise to be better, conversation over drinks. Neither of them brings up Kira Blackwell and soon life feels almost normal again. 

He and Kylo meet once a week for lunch, determined to one-up each other on the best club sandwich in the city. Today it’s Dagobahites, Kylo’s choice. A place owned by an old friend of their uncle Lukes. The food is good, the conversation better and they leave with their hearts and bellies full. Kylo’s new studio is just down the street from their mother's organization so they walk together chatting aimlessly about their parent's vow renewals and this girl Kylo’s been seeing, Rudy. 

Ben listens casually, laughing as Kylo tells him about Rudy’s love of roleplay. He’s starting in on a story that involves cat ears and a collar when they round the corner on an old convent that’s slated to be torn down. The building is crumbling but the walls fencing the structure are done in beautiful stonework, littered with plaques celebrating people for their bravery and altruism. Names and dates and small snippets of the past telling the story of people who gave their lives for something good, something greater. 

It’s then that he sees it. Scanning the stonework, eyes skipping over the names of people now sense deceased. ‘Obidiah Kenobi died of tending to those affected by a cholera epidemic. Ahsoka Tano, celebrated for her time donated helping immigrant children who had lost their parents on their journey to a new world. Kira Blackwell, died saving children from a house fire. 

His heart stops. His body following suit as his eyes linger on the name. Kylo, a few steps ahead stops, looking back curiously, stuck mid sentence. Something about butt plugs and tails and Ben really doesn’t care. 

“They’re finally tearing this place down, are they? Kira loved this place.” It’s the first time Ben has heard his brother say her name out loud since Ben apologized. “Whatter you—“ and then he sees it too. Standing side by side staring at the name on the plaque, “Think it’s a coincidence?” 

“Who knows?” he hears himself say, thinking back to the note in his bedside table. The one he’s kept all these months because he just couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. The truth… Rey… _just Rey._

He’s never told Kylo about the strip club or their strange interaction. He swore someday he would but it never seemed the right time. Ben finds himself quiet on the rest of the walk back. The air thick with untold truths and speculation.  Without thought, it comes out, a rush of words and apology outlining the story of how he punched Snoke in the mouth and left work to find a girl in a pink wig at a strip club. It sounds too fantastical to be the truth but Kylo nods as he listens. They’ll talk about it later but he’s not mad, he has no right to be mad. He just wishes Ben would be more honest with him and with himself. 

They embrace and Kylo wanders off with a challenge for Ben to find a better Bistro next week. He doesn’t think of much else finishing his day in a haze only to leave early and settle in at home with leftover take away. At his kitchen table, Ben sits staring at the styrofoam containers, eyes unfocused and unseeing. The note now sitting on his laptop staring at him. It takes him halfway through his day-old noodles before he finds the courage to make the call. 

Two rings and he’s ready to hang up but then there’s a click and a voice, soft and breathless on the other line, “Hello?”

“Uh… is this Rey… just Rey?” Ben hears himself ask. His palms sweaty as he adjusts the phone in his hand a few times before finally giving up.

There’s a soft laugh, and his name spoken with such joy it makes his heart split wide open. “Yeah… it’s Rey. Decided to embrace the truth did you?” 

“I have a lot of questions.”

“That’s what life’s all about Big Guy,” she chirps happily, “I owe you some answers.”

“Yeah, I think I’m finally ready to hear them.”


End file.
